


Best Laid Plans

by hit_the_books



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Alternate Universe - College/University, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Artist Castiel (Supernatural), Buttertacles Attacks Take 2, Castiel/Dean Winchester First Kiss, Engineer Dean, Fluff, Hurt Castiel, M/M, Mild Hurt/Comfort, Pranks and Practical Jokes, Thanksgiving, We Are All Jojo
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-11-25
Updated: 2017-11-25
Packaged: 2019-02-06 16:08:30
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,475
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12821136
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/hit_the_books/pseuds/hit_the_books
Summary: When a prank at college goes wrong, Castiel looks set to be spending Thanksgiving alone. That is until a very sorry Dean Winchester invites him over to his parents' place for the holiday.





	Best Laid Plans

**Author's Note:**

  * For [jojodacrow](https://archiveofourown.org/users/jojodacrow/gifts).



> Just wanna say:
> 
> Thank you so much, [Jojo](https://archiveofourown.org/users/jojodacrow/pseuds/jojodacrow), for everything you do. You're awesome.

“C’mon,” Castiel muttered under his breath, wishing that the group of friends in front of him would stop taking up the entire hallway. But no, apparently you could get into college and still not know how to walk.

Castiel desperately wanted to get to his art history lecture on time, but instead he walked at half his normal speed, hands nervously pulling at the sleeves of the large chunky blue knit sweater. It wasn’t that he’d been tardy too many times before, but he hated getting on the bad side of his professors. He’d been enjoying his time as a freshman at the University of Kansas and he wanted to keep enjoying it.

Finally his feet reached the door to the lecture room and he was free of the people who had been slowing him down. The following few moments happened in slow motion or at least that was how Castiel would remember it.

He reached out for the door, only to be slammed into from behind and pushed away from the door. The towering guy rushed out an apology as he yanked the door open and blue paint rained down on them. Unable to stay upright as he slipped through the paint, Castiel fell hard and his left arm ignited in screaming pain.

Green eyes gazed down on Castiel in abject terror. And then Castiel passed out from the stabbing sensation in his left arm.

***

“Way to go lose a fight with the floor, bro.” Gabriel hummed from a bedside seat.

Castiel fidgeted with the hospital bed sheets covering him. He’d been kept in overnight, due to having surgery on his left forearm. “I’m not sure if the paint was enough of a giveaway, but it wasn’t exactly my fault.”

“Yeah, well this whole thing puts the kibosh on you flying out to the parentals for Thanksgiving. You need two days before you can fly, and well, we’re meant to be flying out Wednesday, y’know, tomorrow.” Gabriel pulled a packet of Twizzlers from his suit jacket and started opening them up.

Glancing at the cast now covering his left arm, Castiel sighed. It wasn’t like he was super desperate to see his parents, but he did want to see how his younger siblings were doing. Samandriel and Hannah had been getting more and more desperate in their daily emails to him.

Gabriel was the only member of his family he’d seen since starting college and that was only because Castiel was living with him. But Gabriel hadn’t seen the rest of their family since the previous Christmas. There was only one sensible choice, as far as Castiel was concerned.

“You’ll just have to head out west without me.” Castiel slumped a little against his pillows.

“What, and leave you to-”

There was a knock at the door to Castiel’s room. “Uh, hey, are you Castiel Novak?” asked a guy who looked about Castiel’s age. He had on a blue KU Jayhawks sweater on over a pair of stonewash jeans that were ripped around the knees, and a pair of black boots. His green eyes looked familiar. If he wasn’t in such discomfort with his broken arm, Castiel might even go so far as to call the guy cute.

“Yeah that’s me.”

The guy smiled, beautiful mouth stretching in relief and happiness. Okay, Castiel would go as far as to call the guy cute. Hot even.

“Great.” The stranger stepped into Castiel's room, a hefty shopping bag at his left side. He put his right hand through his short blond and gave an apologetic smile. “Look, man, I’m sorry about yesterday. The paint… It was meant for Lafitte and… I’m sorry.” He thrust the bag out like it was a shield and he was facing off against a dragon that would easily devour him, regardless of the shield.

Gabriel frowned deeply, but got up from his seat beside Castiel’s bed and took the bag, looking inside.

“It’s not as good as the one the paint and medics trashed, but I hope you like it.” The stranger gave a hopeful smile and Castiel quirked an eyebrow as Gabriel pulled out the contents of the bag.

“Oh…” Castiel sighed out, looking at the knitted sweater. The blue was a little darker and the yarn had been worked with some complex cabling, but it was big, and looked warm and comfortable. It was perfect. “Thank you so much…”

“Dean. Dean Winchester. I sit at the back normally in MacLeod’s class. And again, I’m real sorry about what happened yesterday.”

“You’re lucky we aren’t suing you,” Gabriel growled out.

And Castiel realized then that maybe he should be angry with Dean and the consequences of the prank. Castiel straightened his back. “Thank you, Dean,” he said coldly.

“Right, well, if you need anyone to help get any class notes or whatever, my number’s in there. I’m not going anywhere for Thanksgiving so… yeah, anything you need.” Dean ducked his head a little, turned on his heel and practically ran out of Castiel’s room.

Gabriel stared after Dean for a moment, before continuing. “I’m not leaving you alone for Thanksgiving!”

Rolling his eyes, Castiel slumped back down in his pillows. “If we pick up some TV dinners and soup, I’ll manage for a few days without you. It’s no big deal. And Samandriel and Hannah haven’t seen you in like a million years. Anyways, it’s my left arm, not my right.”

“Good point. You’re still at least able to jerk yourself off.”

Castiel went pale. “We are not having this conversation.”

It took a bit more needling, but finally Castiel convinced Gabriel that he could leave him alone for the holiday and he’d be fine.

***

Three hours after Gabriel left on the Wednesday, Castiel knew he was not going to be fine. Not only did his arm keep jolting him with pain each time he didn’t move just right, but he’d managed to fail at heating up a bowl of vegetable and chicken soup—the contents of which were still stuck to the kitchen floor and looking a lot like vomit.

He had on the jumper that Dean had brought him. It really was warm and soft, and the sleeves just baggy enough to accommodate his cast. And on the table he had Dean’s cell number.

It was at least partly Dean’s fault that he was in this mess, but he needed help and no one else he knew was around. His few college friends had also headed back to their respective families. Castiel pulled up the dialer on his cell and put in Dean’s number. Hitting dial, Castiel put the cell to his ear and hoped Dean’s offer had been as real as the sweater he was wearing.

“Hey, this is Dean. Who’s-”

“It’s Castiel Novak,” Castiel blurted out. “Were you telling the truth when you said ‘anything I need’?”

Dean audibly swallowed on the other end of the line. “Yes… What do you need, Cas?”

Cas? Only close friends called him that. Castiel’s stomach flipped a little. Through hunger, anticipation or a little of both, he couldn’t really tell.

“I uh, got a bowl of soup all over the kitchen floor and I can’t safely kneel down to clean it up.” Castiel’s stomach gave a loud angry gurgle, hunger making it hurt.

“Sure, I can... help with that.”

“Great, I’ll text you the address.”

“Right… See you soon.”

The call ended and Castiel sent Dean his address. His cell buzzed less than a minute afterwards, with a message saying:

_Be over in 15_

Those four words sent Castiel upstairs to check to see if his best pair of black jeans were clean.

***

Maybe Dean had waited outside until exactly fifteen minutes had passed, but he was knocking on the front door to Gabriel’s house when he said he would be. And Castiel opened it, trying not to show any sign that he had just spent the last minutes fighting to dress himself.

“Thanks for coming over.” Castiel held the door open for Dean, who looked perfect in yet another pair of ripped jeans and the same sweater as before.

Before Castiel could see what car Dean had driven over in, he stepped inside, a couple of grocery bags in his arms. Castiel could smell something sweet coming from inside the bags and also something spicy. “It’s no problem. If you show me the way to the kitchen, I’ll put these down and deal with the soup. And then we can eat.”

“It’s just the soup, I’ve got-”

“What,” Dean started, looking over his shoulder at Castiel, “more canned soup? A TV dinner?” He hefted his bags, containers bumping together. “I’m talking real food here.”

Castiel’s mouth watered. “Fine.” He led the way further into the house and Dean followed.

It took little time for Dean to clean up the mess that Castiel couldn’t. But it was difficult for Castiel to not keep sneaking glances at Dean’s butt. He decided it was a shame that Dean tended to sit in the back of the one class they had together.

Once the soup had been cleared up, Dean set about heating up homemade chili on the stove, and a cherry pie in the oven while Castiel sat at the breakfast counter.

“You cook?” Dean asked as he stirred the chili.

Castiel blushed and shook his head. “No, I uh, normally let my brother Gabriel cook.”

“I love to cook.” Dean started ladling the chili into bowls. He pulled out some tortilla chips from the oven and grabbed a bowl of sour cream. Dean set everything down on the table along with a can of grape soda each. “My brother Sam shouldn’t be allowed near any kitchen.”

Without further prompting, the two men began to eat their lunch. The chili was hot in all the right ways, filling Castiel’s stomach and warming him through. It was a million times better than what had awaited him from the can of soup. The two of them talked about college and their families—the incident didn’t come up at all. When it was time to eat the pie, they kept silent as they finished off half of its sweet goodness, with a passing comment from Dean suggesting the rest would keep for later.

Once they were done eating, Dean took the dishes and washed up.

“So… whatcha wanna do?” Dean asked as he walked back towards the breakfast counter.

For a brief moment, Castiel’s thoughts supplied _you_ in his head, but he kept that to himself. “Uh, well, um… I need to do some sketches for my-”

“You wanna do homework?” Dean butted in. The other man rolled his eyes and chuckled. “I figured you were the sort.”

A blush rose to Castiel’s cheeks and he looked away. “I would have been doing this at my parents’ place anyway… but,” Castiel looked at Dean, “I need a subject. Hannah or Samandriel would have sat for me...” his voice trailed off.

It was Dean’s turn to blush. “Uh, well,” he rubbed at the back of his neck, “sure, I suppose I could, like, sit for you. Yeah. Definitely.”

And so fifteen minutes later, they were in a corner of the living room that had been given over to Castiel’s art supplies. Castiel was sat in a comfy arm chair, brown leather worn with use, that he’d previously fixed holders onto the arms. On one side was pencils, a sharpening knife, putty rubbers, and on the other was selections of charcoals and chalk pastels. There were also sponges and gloves shoved into the holders here and there.

“So, hoping to be an art major?” Dean asked as he sat down on the stool Castiel had pointed to and got comfortable. “Wanna draw me like one of your French girls?”

“Clearly,” Castiel replied dryly with a roll of his eyes. Castiel carefully pulled his large sketchbook towards him and flicked through to the first clean page. His left arm was a dull throb, but working on something would help block out the pain that the few painkillers he’d allowed himself would.

He studied the light in the room, surveyed Dean, and decided he’d work in pencil that afternoon. Charcoals would be too much at the moment, as he couldn’t use his left hand to help wipe away or smooth anything, same with his chalk pastels.

“What about you?” Castiel asked as he took a hard pencil to the paper and started to draw rough shapes to represent Dean’s basic form.

“Engineering,” Dean replied, keeping the rest of him still.

After that they stayed in silence as Castiel worked. It was distracting to be drawing Dean as opposed to any of his siblings. As he sketched out Dean’s cheek bones, added the suggestion of his plump lips, Castiel wondered if Dean had a girlfriend or boyfriend. He dared to imagine that maybe just maybe—Dean might be interested in him.

Switching to a softer pencil to start further cutting in detail and making Dean look more real on the sketch paper, Castiel marveled at the freckles that ran across Dean’s cheeks. He wished for a moment he was working in chalk pastel, because at least then he might be able to do the other man’s eyes justice and bring their sparkling emerald to life. He damned the injury for making that impossible, but also praised it for bringing Dean to him.

After two hours, Castiel was done. He carefully eased himself out of the chair as Dean cracked his neck and rolled his shoulders, muscle rippling under his sweater.

“Oh wow, Cas. This is… You got talent, man.” Dean blushed as he looked at the page Castiel had been working on.

“Thank you.” Castiel ducked his head and gently took the sketchbook from Dean and set it down. “Coffee?”

They both avoided looking each other in the eye as they started towards the kitchen. It wasn’t too difficult for Castiel to make coffee, though Dean had to add the water to the coffee maker. They returned to the living room with their mugs, setting them down on the coffee table in front of a large leather couch.

At first Dean sat down at one end, but slowly scooted closer as they talked.

“Sometimes,” Castiel explained between sips of his coffee, “I like to have reruns of _Doctor Sexy_ on in the background while I work. Has to be something I’ve seen before, else I get too distracted.”

“Y-you like Doctor Sexy?” Dean asked in a higher than usual voice.

“Mmmhmmm.”

“I do too.”

That quiet admission was all Dean said for many minutes as they sipped their drinks in silence. Part of Castiel wished he’d thought to put some music on in the background, but it would look weird if he got up and put something on then.

They finished their coffees and as Dean washed up their mugs, with Castiel watching and appreciating the way Dean’s legs bowed, it felt like Dean was waiting to say something. Eventually there was nothing left to wash up and Dean sat down opposite Castiel at the breakfast counter.

“So… like, my mom was wondering if, y’know, maybe you’d like to come over for Thanksgiving tomorrow?”

Suddenly it was difficult to breathe and Castiel had to swallow before he could get any words out. “That was nice of your mom.” Castiel swallowed again. “Yes, I’d love to join your family.”

A smile that could light up the world broke out across Dean’s face. And Castiel’s heart fluttered in his chest.

“Great. I’ll come get you at like noon. Mom tends to put the food out around two, so it’ll give you enough time to meet everyone.” Dean sighed. “You gonna be okay by yourself tonight?”

Castiel nodded. “Yeah. Gabriel left me with some sandwiches.”

“You can have the rest of the pie too.”

Oh, Castiel was falling harder than he had in his art history class.

***

Sleeping in late, Castiel didn’t have as long as he wanted late Thanksgiving morning to get himself ready for going over to the Winchesters’ place. A shower was out of the question, his balance too off, even if he could waterproof the cast on his arm enough. If Gabriel had been home he would have tried, but instead Castiel settled for putting a towel on the bathroom tiles, and using the basin and some washcloths to make himself presentable.

Washing his hair one handed was awkward as hell as he leaned over the sink basin, a taped up bag over his cast, as he used a small plastic measuring jug from the kitchen to pour water over his head. Still, with perseverance, a lot of cursing, and finding out how far his right arm could reach—Castiel managed to get washed up.

Having dried his hair best he could, Castiel hunted down a pair of blue jeans that didn’t have holes, a plain green t-shirt and the jumper Dean had given him. He couldn’t do up his boots one handed, so he settled on a pair of slip-on brown suede loafers he’d worn to the last job interview he’d attended—a summer job being a greeter and guide at an art gallery, which he’d gotten.

By the time he was presentable, Castiel only had fifteen minutes before Dean would arrive. He’d given the pie dish from the previous day a simple rinse, unable to do anything more. The lack of coffee in his system was making him feel a bit cranky. He only just remembered to dive into Gabriel’s wine stash and pull out a bottle of white that he vaguely knew would go well with turkey.

And then Dean was ringing the front door bell.

“Hey, Cas.” Dean smiled at Castiel as he pulled the door open. He was in hole free blue jeans and a crisply ironed black t-shirt, with a v-neck sweater pulled over it.

“Hi, Dean.” Castiel returned the smile, and then hefted a bag with the pie dish and wine at Dean.

Dean peeked into the bag. “Oh you didn’t have to.” He pointed at the wine.

“It felt wrong to come over for Thanksgiving empty handed.” Castiel blushed and stepped out the door. He locked up, patted himself down to check he had his wallet and phone, then followed Dean down the drive and to his car.

“ _That’s_ your car?” Castiel stared at the sleek lined classic in front of him. Its black paint and shining chrome were immaculate.

“Beauty, ain’t she?” Dean opened the front passenger door for Castiel, and slotted the bag under the bench seat.

“Understatement.” Castiel got in as Dean held the door open for him.

“She’s a 67 Chevy Impala. Use to be my dad’s, now it’s mine.” Dean closed the door and jogged around to the driver’s side. He got in and started up the engine. “We gotta stop off for coffee and donuts on the way. Mom’s gonna kill dad if she doesn’t get something other than whatever crap roast he picked up last night.”

Coffee. Yes, Castiel could definitely go for coffee. Before he could answer, his stomach answered for him, rumbling loudly.

Dean chuckled. “Dunkin’ Donuts it is.”

***

Dean carried the bag, a box of donuts and coffee trays balanced on the box as the two of them walked up to the front of the Winchester house. It was a brown brick build from the eighties. A family home. Castiel had offered to help carry something, but Dean wouldn’t hear of it.

“Ring the bell, would ya?” Dean kept everything carefully balanced as he waited beside Castiel.

Trepidation crept down Castiel’s spine and he shivered in the cool late Fall air. He pressed his finger to the brass buzzer and a bell rang somewhere in the interior.

Seconds passed and then suddenly the door was thrust open. “DEAN!” yelled a skinny teenage boy, tufty hazel-brown hair curling around his ears. He looked to be about fifteen, and was dressed in a _Doctor Who_ t-shirt and brown cord pants.

“Hey ya, Sammy. Mind taking the coffees?”

The kid pouted for a second after the mention of “Sammy”, but he smiled when he saw the box of donuts. “Sure!” And then he seemed to notice Castiel. “Oh sorry… you must be...”

“Castiel,” Dean prompted and followed “Sammy” in.

“Castiel, it’s nice to meet you,” Sam—Castiel assumed—said as he led them into the house and then the kitchen.

Nearly every surface seemed to be covered in some form of food prep, bar the end of one counter. There was just enough room for the coffee and donuts, so Dean and Sam set them down there.

“Mom, we’re back!” Dean yelled.

From somewhere deeper in the house, there were hurried footsteps and hushed whispers. A man and a woman appeared, both looking slightly flustered. Castiel guessed these were Dean and Sam’s parents.

“Hi, you must be Castiel,” the man greeted, tall, black hair swept to the side. Dean’s father was dressed in jeans and blue plaid, a day’s growth covering his cheeks. He held out his right hand to Castiel’s good one. “John Winchester. And this is Mary.”

Castiel shook John’s hand and then turned to Mary. She was bouncing blond curls, dressed in jeans and a red plaid shirt, smiles and warmth. For a second, Castiel missed his own mother, but then Mary was shaking his hand. “We’re happy you could make it, Castiel.”

“He brought a bottle of wine,” Dean interrupted.

“Oh he did? Well clearly he knows how to treat the cook.” Mary winked at Castiel and Dean removed the wine from the bag.

“Yeah, well your _son_ also bought you coffee and donuts, so don’t go replacing me yet,” Dean groused in good humor.

Soon enough, the five of them were drinking and snacking, and then Dean was roped into helping Mary out with the rest of the food. Sam wandered off upstairs, saying he just needed to put some finishing touches to a school essay, which got Dean rolling his eyes.

That left Castiel following John into the dining room. Following John’s direction, Castiel helped set the table, putting out the cutlery while John showed off a side to himself that Castiel hadn’t expected—beautifully folded napkins set at each setting. There was more spaces there than just the ones for five people.

John caught Castiel contemplating the spaces that had been set-up. “The parents—grandparents decided they’d join us, almost last minute. Good thing Mary always cooks enough to feed a small army.”

“Oh… that must be… nice?”

John quirked an eyebrow at Castiel. “Yeah, well if you could keep quiet about how your arm ended up in that cast, it’d be a mighty help. Henry’s putting the boy through school and I don’t need him thinking he’s paying for his grandson to be a jackass.”

“Henry?”

“My pa.”

Castiel nodded. “Sure...” Noticing a tension in John’s shoulders that hadn’t been there at the start of them laying the table, Castiel decided to press a little further. “So… do your parents and Mary’s parents, uh, get along?”

Lifting his gaze to Castiel, John licked his lips and frowned. “Consider this, Castiel—you’re Switzerland today.”

And all of a sudden, Dean’s offer of Thanksgiving dinner was looking less and less appetizing.

***

The senior Campbells and Winchesters seemed nice enough. Though with each other, maybe a bit less so. Henry and Millie Winchester eyed Samuel and Deanna Campbell with mild disdain, while Samuel and Deanna had that way of looking around the house and at John that said “you were never good enough”. The Campbells favored jeans and plaid, while Henry was in a suit and Millie was in a flowery dress.

Just as they were getting ready to sit down, Castiel took Dean aside in the deserted pantry and glared at him.

Dean didn’t need a hint to understand what had gotten to Castiel. “Okay, so we’re just like every other family ever. So sue me.”

“You could have said something.”

Shrugging, Dean licked his lips and Castiel couldn’t help tracking the movement. Dean took a step closer to Castiel. “Maybe I wanted your company.”

And just as Castiel was trying to come up with a reply that didn’t fully incriminate him, Dean leaned in and kissed Castiel on the lips. Light as a feather, until Castiel used his good hand to pull Dean in by the front of his v-neck pullover and then it became more heated.

Dean licked along the seam of Castiel’s lips and he opened up to Dean, letting him take what he wanted. A part of his brain tried to figure out how Dean had managed to hold back all of the previous day, until he heard a loud “ahem” from somewhere near his broken arm.

“Yo! Need to get the cranberry sauce,” Sam said loudly.

Dean broke the kiss, the blush on his cheeks matching Castiel’s own.

“Sam, please...”

Gently picking up two jars of cranberry sauce, Sam turned to Dean and Castiel, and winked. “Like I would. Just don’t break his other arm, I figure he needs that one.” Sam grinned and wandered out of the pantry.

“Fuck,” Dean groaned, rubbing at his face.

“Maybe not while we’re under the same roof as your family,” Castiel half-joked.

Dean let out a choked off laugh. “Yeah, yeah, now’s probably not the best time.”

Using his one good arm and hand, Castiel straightened out Dean’s pullover and smoothed down the front of his own clothes.

“Okay, let’s go try to survive dinner.” Castiel pulled Dean out of the pantry.

***

Somehow, and don’t ask Castiel how, they all survived dinner. Stuffed and happy, everyone decanted into the living room, where John, Henry, Samuel, Millie, Deanna and Mary sat down on two large couches to watch the game.

Dean, Castiel and Sam scooted up in another corner and played _Sorry_. Not that Castiel was paying it huge amounts of attention. Sure he missed being around Gabriel, Hannah and Samandriel, but having Dean sat close enough that he could feel the warmth of his body, or the way Dean would brush his hand over Castiel’s—it was worth it.

It was late when Dean finally got Castiel home, kissing him on his doorstep.

“I’ll bring some leftovers tomorrow,” Dean promised, arms wrapped carefully around Castiel’s middle. “Could do that whole drawing thing again.”

“Sounds good.” Castiel nuzzled at Dean’s right cheek. He pulled away a little and grinned at Dean. “Y’know, maybe I’ll paint _you_ one day.”

“Sure… just fewer broken bones.”

“We’ll see.”

A paint ball match for charity six months later saw Dean Winchester’s team lose spectacularly to a team of people from KU’s art and art history department. Dean’s ass had almost never been so sore from extra curricular activities before.

Almost.


End file.
